


Killer For Hire

by ShinigamiSlingby



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Hate to Love, Kat is the kid of USUK just for this, Killer finds love, M/M, Some other minute relationships mentioned, Until near the end, We all hate Liz, We all love her really, it's to do with the kingdoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinigamiSlingby/pseuds/ShinigamiSlingby
Summary: This started off as a small idea but I then made it longer. It is set on Aeria, if you don't know what that is, read the about work I made. Elizevita is a killer, enough said. She wanted to make it as a better person but the death of her parents made this difficult. A generation long vendetta with the royal family led her to her next target- the princess of Spades, Katyusha Braginski.





	

It has never been easy living like this, in the dark and all alone. My parents were long gone, leaving me to fend for myself. Well, I make a living by killing the violent and otherwise unwanted members of our godforsaken land. So much for Æria being the hub of non-human attributes, non violent and merciful people, that was clearly a lie fed to us by the king of Spades. That man doesn't know how to run a country at all, he doesn't know an article of peace from a declaration of war. Even when he wants to do well, he fails- falling straight back into his pit of despair and destruction. But then again we are meant to keep clinging on to the thought of a better life. That is what our greedy, money grabbing media tells us anyway.

My life is one of murder.  
It always has been and I always will. To become something that destroys your entire moral fibre for money comes at a price. I don't manage to sleep at night due to my mind bugging me until I confess. So much for being the strong killer that my clients think I am.

I wiped the blood from my face and looked down at the mangled face in front of me. Maybe a part of me enjoys killing, my victims certainly get a good kick out of my job. They become beautiful after all, perfect brush strikes of crimson red. The worst ones have been recent, a simple kill won't work anymore. First it was a slit throat, then it was trophies (I gave this up due to my lack of preservation), now it is an extraction of organs. Crimson pooled around my feet, sweeping into my dress and hair, the killing began. A woman of the name Кlava. Her face contorted into a violent scream, blood splattered up the front of her evening gown and porcelain white face. I picked her up by her silver hair, most of her body still draped with the feeling of a freshly made corpse. I let the straight razor slide through her neck, a violent gush of blood spurted from her milky white skin. The contrast sent a shiver down my spine; who would have thought that killing could be made into art? I let her body drop to the floor- it happened in an not-so particular manner, limbs contorted into a seemingly violent mass. The hair that was thrown across her face now caked in the red. _The perfect picture of beauty eh? Not so beautiful now, lying in your blood oh model of Neon._ I shook my head and walked away from the scene, walking near the bar where killers meet. The Dgor Aegh, my only salvation. Even if the members are a little rough, I can handle myself. I have lived on the street for years. There are many bars, all owned by the same man, with the same name here- all as bad as the next.

I hummed to myself, finding a final place to go- the main bar. It was a dingy little thing, filled with scowling and- more likely than not- blood soaked faces. They seemed to follow me with their eyes along the bar, eyes full of malice or maybe even something else. _Depraved bastards_. I shot a brief glance at them, fire streaming through this glance, and then waved to the bartender. The fetid stench of blood streamed through the room, it was mixed with dried sweat and old alcohol. Of all the scents that could have been brought together, it had to be those. I am pretty used to those cloying smells, it is the only downside of this job. Besides the actual killing.  
"whatever you've got, make it strong." I spoke to the absent looking woman behind the mahogany. She nodded, looking at the glasses behind the bar. "Guessing you haven't been working here long- you'll get used to the killers. The boasting about how much blood they have ripped so sweetly from their victims. How eloquently they speak about the corpse's skin flushed with the blood about to drip from a snake-like gash." I continued, mainly just to scare her.  
"How can you say such things with a straight face? Miss you are absolutely vulgar." she questioned, I simply ignored this. Part of me feels for the people that I kill, most of me to be exact, but if I tell people that I would probably loose my life and job. Not that I particularly care about my life, I am only here to see one thing happen. I am here to kill the princess. Self occupied, even more than her father, stuck up little brat needs to simply die. I have never met her but all say that she is going to ruin Æria more than her father already has. I am on my way to the palace in the morning. Finding a place to stay for now will be the hard part but I have business. Sitting in a ditch would do me just for today. I drank the glass of alcohol and set it on the bar, gesturing for another. With every sip came a sort of intoxicating liberation.

"So, what made you become a bartender in such a place?" I waved my glass, looking at the woman through blurry eyes. She jumped, I am guessing people like her don't get much conversation in here.  
"Well miss, I was working as a killer here for a few months. It was hard work, the Baron clearly didn't like me so I left and became the barmaid." I laughed at this; it wasn't particularly aimed at her but I didn't care if she thought that way. Tobais hates everyone, that is his way. He manipulated his way to the top, workers like me know this, and now he is suspicious of anyone who knew him longer than the past year. He only talks to me because I fill one of the highest killing quotas.  
"Oh well, as long as you have a job." I waved off her story quickly. Although I am supposed to be the caring one, I couldn't give a crap about her ramblings. "I have to get to my room now, I assume your father kept it for me?"  
"Ah, room 36 was it? There you go" she smiled weakly, giving me the key. "Just be careful in there ok?" I nodded, ignoring this statement. What could be wrong? I have never been told to be careful before.

 

I followed a string of people up the stairs to my room, mainly filthy old men and their 20-something prostitutes, with a feeling of anger. Those with money bedding those without, what has our society come to? If it weren't for the looming termination of my job contract, I would kill them all on sight.


End file.
